


Nice Guys Finish Last

by Shadow_Belle



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Belle/pseuds/Shadow_Belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Christmas Gift for Avari who asked for something where Damon gets the girl. And since Damon knows from personal experience that nice guys finish last, he's fully prepared to be a bit of a bastard to get what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Guys Finish Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avari/gifts).



Nice Guys Finish Last

Damon Salvatore had learned the hard way that nice guys finish last.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, he’d been a _nice guy_. He’d been a gentleman in the truest sense of the word.

And Katherine had crushed him like a sad, little bug under her heel. He should have known she was sadist and a masochist by her pointy little boot heels. Those couldn’t have been comfortable—and yet she’d smiled and chatted, danced and flirted for hours.

He hadn’t known then she was a vampire either, but his father had warned him that all women would try to suck the life out of a man if they could.

That was part of why Damon hated his humanity so much, because when he’d been human, he’d been the nice guy. He’d always finished last.

Damon also knew that in any good story, the hero had to make sacrifices and he’d made plenty for Elena. He’d never expected anything in return. Except this—his own dark little happily ever after that was just bittersweet enough to happen in reality. Because it wasn’t _really_ happily ever after if it wasn’t forever and he knew Elena didn’t want to be a vampire. He’d accepted that.

He knew he was on borrowed time, her human life slipping away with every second that ticked by on the clock. So tonight, he was going to take what he wanted. No, scratch that, he was going to make her want to give it to him. Not with compulsion, he actually wanted to win fairly.

Well, mostly fairly.

She was vulnerable, lonely, and he knew just where to touch her. Just what to say. But he wasn’t just trying to get his dick wet—he wouldn’t make her scream his name in tongues and never call her again.

Damon Salvatore was going to get the girl.

He even knocked on the door rather than just slipping into her room.

~*~

Elena had come to a decision.

It was probably not the best choice she’d ever made, it would come with a wild set of complications, but it wouldn’t be her worst decision either.

Once, Elena thought she’d wanted a normal life.

What did that even mean? She didn’t know any more and it was so far gone now that if she tripped into normalcy, she wouldn’t know what to do with it. She’d made peace with what her life had become and decided to live it. To be happy.

Because she knew all too well how short it could be.

But that was kind of what made it beautiful. Like fireworks, such beauty bursting through space and time—burning so hot and fast.

She could be a star and burn forever, but the very idea made her so tired. And yet, it did have its own appeal. Maybe because she’d decided to surrender to her feelings.

Whatever they happened to be.

To revel in them, to experience everything, to feel everything.

While it had been a decision of broad strokes, it was one of specificity too. She wanted to know what it would feel like to belong to Damon Salvatore.

Elena shivered and licked her lip, remembering. One of her most illicit fantasies was about him and the night he’d almost died. When he’d bit her throat.

The sensation of his fangs penetrating her skin had been exquisite pain and she’d been terrified, but there’d been a freedom when she’d surrendered to him, wrapped her arm around him. She would have come just from his bite if he hadn’t collapsed.

She imagined when she was dating Matt, telling him to bite her. No, for good or ill, her libido was inexorably tied to the fanged.

Elena shivered delicately as desire thrummed through her body. Her nipples tightened hard against the thin material of her tank top. She slipped her hand down beneath the waistband of her shorts and against the wet, swollen flesh of her mound.  
She stroked softly, relieving the memory.

Elena knew it was probably fucked up that it turned her on, but after everything that had happened to them, she was past caring.

A loud knock on the door startled Elena out of her activity. Shit. He’d smell it on her. She’d invited Damon over for a movie night to cheer her up. Part of her wished she’d been bold enough to call him and invite him over to fuck. But movie night was close enough.

“Little pig, little pig, let me in,” Damon’s voice echoed through the door.

“Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin,” she answered, but crept over to the door, resting her hand on the knob.

“Fine. Then I’ll take this Belgian Chocolate gelato elsewhere.”

She flung the door open. “Let’s not be hasty.”

Elena was surprised to see him. Then she realized that was a stupid thought, she’d invited him over, she shouldn’t be surprised. When had his face become so familiar? So dear?

So very vital to her?

His mouth curved his trademarked smirk and her heart fluttered in her chest, the wings of a butterfly beating against her ribs.

He’d taken care with his appearance. He wore his usual black jeans, deliciously tight black t-shirt, but his hair slicked back neatly, that one rebellious curl swooping over his forehead and he smelled of Polo Black.

Contrary to his belief, he had a scent aside from the Polo. He smelled of cool spring water, moss and moonlight—he smelled of darkness.

Something was different about him, or maybe he was just different because she’d decided things would change between them.  
When she reached out to take the proffered gelato, he took her hand instead. The one that had been rubbing at her clit only moments before.

And he brushed his lips across her knuckles.

Elena almost bit through her lip, knowing he could smell her, knowing he knew what she’d been doing.

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t speak of it, only handed her the gelato after.

She didn’t know what she’d expected of him, that he’d scent her need and pounce on her like a great cat on prey. Except maybe she always smelled that way to him, like lust and want.

~*~

As soon as he’d smelled her lust, the musky scent of her sex on her fingers, his fangs had filled his mouth and he’d bitten his own tongue to soothe the fire that sparked his monster.

Her neck was so pale against the dark curtain of her hair, the black of her tank top, her veins vivid blue pulsing beneath the skin, calling him. Her pulse had thumped faster as he’d stared, blood flowing hot and fast.

Yet his gaze was drawn lower to the mounds of her unbound breasts beneath that thin material, to the flare of her hips and the apex of her thighs where she’d just been thrusting those pretty little fingers he’d had against his lips.

Damon didn’t know if she was taunting him of if she’d simply forgotten how keen his senses were.

His cock thickened with need against his jeans.

“Thanks for the gelato. Do you want to share it with me?” She licked her lips.

It took everything in him not to slam her against the wall and bury both his fangs and cock inside of her.

“No, it’s all for you.”

And it was, all of his need, his want, his desire. All for her.

She rewarded him with a smile. “Thank you.” Elena stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, her breasts brushing against his arm as she did so.

Damon squelched his desire and put on his game face. He wanted her, yes. But he was no green boy, no youth. He was an immortal who’d had more women than he could count and they’d all screamed his name.

He was a master of carnal delight and he’d have her begging with need before the night was over.

Damon’s arm snaked around her waist and he pressed her against him, his lips only a fraction of a whisper from her ear.

“You’re welcome.”

Then he released her and strolled casually into the living room, not looking back to see if she followed.

“What did you bring to watch?”

“Red Riding Hood. I thought you would’ve gathered that by the way I knocked.”

“It’s perverse how much you like werewolf flicks.”

“What, would you have me angsting over Coppola’s Dracula and pining over my Mina?”

“Well, why not? I really liked that red dress.”

He pretended to examine her. “It’d look great on you, except for the bustle.”

Her mouth dropped open like a rusty gate.

He smirked. “Especially not since you’re going to eat that whole pint of gelato by yourself.” Damon splayed himself on the couch. “And they’re really hard to get off.” He winked at her.

“I’m amazed you ever got any woman out of any piece of clothing with sweet words like those.” Elena rolled her eyes and sat down next to him, flipping the DVD player on.

~*~

“And what sweet words would _you_ have had of me?” He pushed her hair over her shoulder with one finger, the nail grazing down the column of her throat. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” he said, quoting Shakespeare and then moving on to Byron. “Or she walks in beauty like the night; of cloudless climes and starry skies?” His voice dropped an octave. “Or even Marlowe? Come live with me and be my love,” he began, his voice slipping down her spine and wrapping around her as if it were his hands.

“Honesty. I think women of the day would have preferred it the same as we do now.”

“You think that, do you? Honesty?” He barked a laugh.

Elena suddenly found herself beneath him on the couch, her hands held above her head and his knee pressed between her thighs, the solid weight of him pushing her down.

“Honest would be how I dream of the taste of you, of the salt of your skin, the tang of your blood, and the honey of your cunt on my tongue. Not so pretty as Marlowe’s beds of roses and a thousand fragrant posies.”

Elena licked her lips, a shuddering breath torn from her. “Maybe not, but it’s honest.” She bit her lip and turned her head to the side slowly—her eyes never leaving his—exposing her throat.

But instead of ravaging her, he released her and turned his attention back to the movie.

What. The. Fuck.

She’d just offered herself to him. Why didn’t he take her?

Rather than wait, and analyze it and angst over it, Elena decided to ask him.

She grabbed the remote and paused the movie. “What the hell was that?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “You tell me.”

“No, I asked the question. You answer it. I offered you my throat. You didn’t take it. Why not?”

“Maybe I don’t want it.”

“That pig won’t fly.”

“Awfully impressed with yourself, aren’t you?”

“And so are you. You just told me you dreamt about my blood, my skin, my _cunt_. I offered it all to you, why didn’t you take it?”

“Maybe I like having something unattainable, something to strive for, to hope for. Maybe you’re my holy grail.”

“I still call bullshit,” Elena dared.

“Think of the realities of being with me, Elena. Do you really think I will ever let you go? Do you think that all of your reasonable discussions with Stefan about what you want out of a relationship, or whatever other touchy-feely bullshit is going to fly with me? Do you think I give a shit about living a normal life? I’m a fucking vampire, Elena. I want you, but not enough to neuter myself.”

“I don’t want you to neuter yourself,” she whispered as if she’d just figured it out herself. “I want you the way you are.”

“You say that now, while your body aches for touch and your veins throb to be pierced…”

“I do,” Elena admitted. Then she decided to go for the throat. It was what he would do, after all. “I do ache for touch and to be pierced. By your hands,” she drew his hands to her waist and slid over to him, straddling him. “Your cock,” she dared to whisper, her lips so close to his. “And your fangs. I want them deep inside me.”

She ground herself against him, the hard ridge of his cock felt so good.

~*~

The seduction he’d planned to take hours had only taken moments. She wasn’t begging, but she’d vocalized her need, her want.

“I guess you’ll have to keep wanting, pretty Elena.”

She didn’t stop rolling her hips. “You’re not going to tell me no.”

“I am going to tell you no. I’m not second place. I’m not some puppy you can stroke when it pleases you and put outside when it doesn’t.”

“I know. You’re a big, strong, vampire.” She mocked. “Who can tear my throat out at will.”

He slammed her back down on to the couch with so much force they tumbled to the floor. She gasped and the scent of her  
increased desire filled the air around them.

She liked this.

“Don’t you forget it, little girl.” He growled, his face changing with his need.

“Little girl?” she purred. “I’m all woman, Damon.” Then suddenly, she wasn’t the wanton. She was just Elena. Slightly vulnerable and soft. “Don’t you want me? I don’t understand. Why are you being so cruel?”

“Nice guys finish last.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. That you don’t finish until dawn,” she teased.

“I could fuck you all night. I could make your pleasure last for days,” he promised. “But I _am_ cruel. I am a monster. That doesn’t change because you decide I’m worthy to fuck you.”

“Oh, Damon. We’re all monsters in one way or another. I want to know this. I want to be with you. I’ve wanted it for so long, but I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“This isn’t going as I’d planned.”

“You thought all you had to do was flash those tits and that ass, bat those lashes and I’d be your dog?” He tangled his fist in her hair.

“Not like that. I thought you wanted me.”

He slipped his hand between them, pushed down between her thighs and stroked the aching, wet flesh there.

“Damon,” she gasped.

He wasn’t about to let her take control away from him again. He wanted her, but it would be on his terms. It would be her surrender.

“Open your mind to me.”

She tore the vervain necklace from around her throat with no hesitation and he entered her mind carefully. He didn’t want her mindless, he wanted her to feel everything he did to her, to be consciously aware of it. Damon found no resistance in her usually well-guarded mind.

“Bliss,” he whispered and all of her pleasure receptors fired at once.

Her nails dug at his back and she arched hard against him, her body spasming with ecstasy.

It was something more than an orgasm, more than a culmination of sensation, it was mind, body and soul.

When he finally allowed the tremors to subside, she lay beneath him, boneless and exhausted.

Yet, she still offered him her throat.

~*~

“Mark me,” she begged. Elena needed this from him. This was the only thing she could give him that he’d understand she wasn’t just lonely. She didn’t just need touch, pleasure.

She needed him. She needed Damon Salvatore.

Because as he held her and she’d come apart in his arms, she realized she loved him.

All that he’d done for her, sacrificed for her. He didn’t say it in so many words, but he existed to love her. She beg him if she had to, to make him see the truth of it.

“The pleasure I just gave you was more than my bite. It’ll hurt, Elena.” He said this as if he didn’t have the power to command that she feel no pain. She’d surrendered her will to him by taking off the necklace and he’d respected her, giving her only the ecstasy he’d promised.

She shivered in anticipation. “I want it to hurt. Mark me. Make me yours.”

He grazed his teeth over her throat. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I need it, Damon. I need you. Please,” she begged.

“Tell me that you belong to me,” Damon demanded.

“You, only you,” Elena cried as she pushed against him.

He sank his fangs into her throat and another wave of bliss washed over her—even the pain of his teeth piercing her flesh felt oh-so good. Damon drank from her, not just a drop, but deeply—wholly.

The idea that he was nourished by her thrilled her. Even when her consciousness began to dim.

He tore himself away from her. “So sweet, Elena. Like warm honey. I could drink you down, swallow all of you.”

She didn’t pull away.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

~*~

Damon kept expecting her to pull away, to say he’d taken too much, to be angry with him and begin the push and pull yet again.

Instead, she whispered, “I love you, Damon.”

He licked at her wounds tenderly, healing them and holding her close.

Then he brushed his lips over her forehead without saying the words back. “You’re mine,” he said instead and she purred in his arms contentedly.

He did love her. More than she could ever know.

More than he’d ever tell her.

Tonight, he’d gotten exactly what he came for. Since nice guys finished last, he was okay with being a bit of a bastard.


End file.
